After the Fall
by callmebluetoo
Summary: COMPLETE. She could almost hear him say her name and whisper those three lines that had haunted her for weeks. "I’m sorry for everything. You deserve much better. Don’t come looking for me." Blair/Chuck.
1. Chapter 1

Blair flexed her ankles, lifting her Miu Miu heels off the floor until she felt a stretch in her calves. She adjusted the laptop balanced on her thighs and quickly typed the last sentence to her second European history essay. Nate had sent her the Beowulf paper Chuck had left at his place last year and she thought she'd done a halfway decent job of mimicking Chuck's writing style. She liked thinking about what he would say and how he would have said it, and she could almost see his self-satisfied smirk. She skimmed the text before hitting print--the commentary on the industrialization of Europe and the failed opportunity to capitalize on the American line system was especially Chuck-like.

Nate had raised his eyebrows at her when he handed over the paper. "It's sweet, Blair, but are you sure you—" and she'd cut him off. Was she sure? Months after the break-up, she found it hard to believe that she'd spent years with Nate. His blue eyes were beautiful, that much was certain, but the appeal was gone. He was too shiny for her now, too new and naïve, easily outraged with shallow emotion.

Chuck had been gone for three weeks and missed four days of school—well, five, unless he showed up today. Blair printed the essay and slid it into her tote, glancing at her reflection in the mirror and smiling brightly at herself, practicing. She was wearing the pink orchid headband from Lily and Bart's wedding, and the patent flowers gleamed against her dark hair. It wasn't healthy, she knew it wasn't, to keep wearing the things that reminded of him. She'd even worn the Erickson Beamon necklace to bed one night with a silk negligee, dreaming of him walking into her room and sliding between the sheets with her, touching her neck and kissing her shoulders. She shook her head and slipped past Dorota, making the final adjustments to her outfit in the elevator.

Serena was waiting in the lobby and chattered brightly when they slid into the chauffeured car, courtesy of Lily's inheritance. She turned her attention back to Serena, who was once again predictably torn between Artist Step-bro and Cabbage Patch. Blair was bored. It was such a bland problem, like picking which brand of vanilla ice cream was best.

"And Aaron's great. I mean, the trip was so romantic, and I felt terrible about leaving you, but I just had to see what it would be like," Serena explained.

"S." Blair put her hand over her friend's and Serena startled at the gesture. "I'm sorry, but I can't hear about this right now."

"Sorry, B." Serena gave her that small smile. Her pity smile, Blair noted, but she didn't care. Chuck's voice was still ringing through her head from the night she'd spent drafting his history essay. She could almost hear him say her name and whisper those three lines that had haunted her for weeks. "I'm sorry for everything. You deserve much better. Don't come looking for me."

"Where do you think he went?"

"B?"

"I mean it. He isn't anywhere that Gossip Girl is reporting. We know he went to Thailand and then came back to New York. Do you think he stayed here?"

"B, I don't know. Maybe he's at one of Bart's buildings, or even his Palace suite. But I don't know--Mom checked it two weeks ago and room service said they hadn't made a delivery."

Blair looked out the window at Constance Billard. She knew Chuck. He would have paid off room service to keep quiet.

"Can you turn these in for me?" She unbuckled her bag and gave Serena the history essays. "And can I borrow your car?"

The blonde pressed her lips together and nodded. "Just… be careful."

Blair nodded, and they both knew it was a lie, but Serena swung her legs out of the car and shut the door.

Blair fixed her headband and spoke sharply. "The Palace."

***************

She managed to slip past security by pretending she'd left a scarf at Serena's penthouse, and now she was outside suite 1812. Blair reached into her purse and removed the keycard she'd had since Bart Bass's funeral. She breathed in, one quick deep breath, and opened the door.

It was dark inside. The drapes were closed and she maneuvered carefully through the suite. Empty bottles and broken glass littered the floor and her heel crunched down on shards of crystal. She made her way over to the bedroom and pushed on the half-open door. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands tensed in front of her. A beat passed and she breathed again, a shaky gasp that she tried to smooth into a steady stream of air. She told herself to stay calm, to stay strong, but her heart was beating out an allegro song.

Chuck Bass was sprawled across the bed. His right arm dangled off one side and his fingertips were inches away from a nearly-empty bottle of scotch. He was wearing a rumpled white t-shirt and the cashmere pajama pants that she recognized as a gift she'd given to him for their trip to almost-trip to Tuscany. She set down her purse and removed her coat.

The bed creaked when she crawled across it and she sat next to Chuck. He breathed in and out shallowly, and his eyelashes flickered in the bits of sunlight creeping in from the spaces in the drapes. Blair reached out her hand and stroked his forehead. He turned his face to her and his eyes stayed closed. She gently touched his forehead again and smoothed his hair before he caught his hand in hers and opened his eyes.

"I told you not to look for me."

His voice was steely and he was gripping her wrist tightly, but his eyes were soft caramel rimmed in red and she hated that it'd taken her this long to disobey his request.

"I told you I love you." Her voice was stronger than she'd expected.

He let go of her wrist and sat up, turning his back to her. She wanted to touch him, to hold him in her arms again, but she resisted and laid her hands flat on her thighs. The quiet hung in the room.

"How can you love me?" His question was less than a whisper, but she'd been waiting for any words and heard each letter. She rose off the bed and walked over to him, placing her hands on his head and stroking his hair.

"Chuck," she said, and she couldn't help it, her voice wavered and a tear slipped down her cheek. In an instant he was standing and she was in his arms.

His touch was light, but his hands were on her waist and she felt feverish all over. He was hot against her, and his stubble brushed against her cheek as he touched his face to hers. She touched his back before moving her fingers up to brush through his hair, and he stumbled against her. His hands tightened on her waist for a moment and then he pushed her away.

Blair twisted her ruby ring around her finger and watched him. He was still standing, but he was crumbled over and his gaze was fixed to one side. She stepped toward him again and he tried to step back, but his legs hit the bed and he reached out instinctively and caught Blair's waist. They toppled onto the mattress and she pressed her weight on top of him. He stilled.

"Chuck Bass," she whispered, and he turned his face to her and she saw that flicker in his eyes, that softening from the night he'd knelt before her at her dressing table. "How can you ask me that?" He was watching her now, and he looked like that night at the Victorla, when he'd asked her if she was sure in the limousine. But she was sure, she'd been sure for months now and she thought maybe she'd always known.

"I love you," she said and his eyes welled up. "I love you," she said again, and Blair's voice sounded stronger even to herself. "I love your hands and the way you look at me, I love your disgusting comments, I love your scarves and bow ties, I love the way you raise your eyebrows and how you glare, I love the way you walk, how you put your hands in your pockets, how you manage to use your limo's automatic windows to dramatic effect." She was smiling now and his face relaxed, and he looked like a little boy in his white t-shirt. "And I love you, Chuck Bass, because I do. Because I think I always have, and I know—" her voice wavered, but she continued, "I know I always will."

"Blair," he rasped, and he drew her to him. He touched her lips and sat up, holding her close to him. "You don't want me," he protested, but his words were weak. "You deserve better," he repeated, but his hands were touching her back and his body leaned into hers.

"I don't want better," Blair whispered, "I want you."

And then he laughed. She gasped happily and kissed him mid-laugh and his lips curved under hers as he kissed her back with soft, quick pecks. She drew back and smiled at him and they were there, Chuck and Blair, and he was looking at her with those red-rimmed eyes and she knew he was on his way home.

***************

She woke suddenly, tangled in the bedsheets of suite 1812. Her headband was on the nightstand and her clothes were rumpled, and he was gone. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to panic, and when she opened them again her pupils adjusted to the darkness as she slid off the bed. She pushed open the door to the living room and spoke his name, more a wish than a question.

"Chuck?"


	2. Chapter 2

The living room was bright with sunshine and Blair blinked as the rays reflected off the shiny surfaces of the mirrors in the front hallway. It was almost as though she'd fallen through the rabbit hole, but this wasn't any Wonderland she'd ever dreamt about.

The empty bottle and broken glass from hours ago had both vanished, and the suite was picture-perfect. Fresh hydrangeas adorned the coffee table and a cart with breakfast sat near the couch, as if the room was waiting for her to wake up and quite literally smell the coffee. She sat down hesitantly and lifted up the silver covering on the tray, expecting toast and eggs. The cream envelope that awaited her instead was an unwelcome surprise.

Her name was lettered across the front in Chuck's fine, straight handwriting. Her hands were shaking as she ripped it open quickly, but she paused before she unfolded the card.

"Dear Blair," she imagined out loud, "I am now a billionaire and don't need you. Love, Chuck."

She continued, standing as she paced around the room, the unopened card in her hand.

"B," she said, "You may be a queen, but I'm ruling solo. XOXO, Bass."

"Blair," and she forced herself to imagine the worst. "I'm not in love with you. Please leave me alone. Charles Bass."

She walked over to the windows and looked out at the city. It was a cold winter's day in New York, gray and windy, but there was still greenery in Central Park and the gardens would be back soon. It was so much easier, she thought, to be miserable in January.

She opened the card.

"Waldorf," it said, "I hope housekeeping didn't disturb you, but the bedroom's now soundproofed for obvious reasons. (The night after your seventeenth birthday, the hotel got thirty complaints about a woman in the throes of ecstasy.) Present in the front closet for you. When you're ready, call Sven at 431 on the suite phone and tell him you're ready for part one. See you soon. – C."

She could not contain herself and let out a squeal. Yesyesyesyesyes, her heart drummed out as she sprinted to the front closet. A dress? Jewelry? Chuck himself? Or maybe…

A shapeless brown canvas work jacket and pants and a construction hat.

"Ew."

***************

Sven was a short, portly man with a Burt Reynolds mustache. He had arrived at 1812 after Blair's call and escorted her to a private elevator that opened to a hidden parking space where the limo idled quietly. She sat in the back, nervously, as Sven smoothly guided the car through the New York streets.

She opened her purse and put on a fresh coat of lipstick. She'd made the horrible outfit work by cutting off the bottom of the jacket and turning it into a belt. The new cinched waist and flipped collar gave off a sort of Audrey-at-the-end-of-Tiffany's vibe, she thought, and fortunately Chuck had chosen fitted pants that she'd paired with flat Tod's riding boots courtesy of Serena's closet. If she was getting dumped, she wasn't going to look dumpy, she reasoned, but her heart was still racing from the words in Chuck's note.

The car stopped suddenly and Blair peered out the window. They were, once again, in an underground parking garage. Sven opened the car door and she stood up.

"Mr. Bass requests you join him at floor 88. Continue down the hallway to the double door."

Blair nodded. Sven was creepy, like a robot come to life. She waited for more information, but he just kept looking at her until she turned and stepped into the elevator, pressing 88. The only buttons, she noticed, were 1 and 88, but the elevator rocketed upward before she had time to process this information.

The elevator doors opened and Blair peered out. The hallway was quiet and carpeted with blue tarps. Fresh paint covered the walls and various tools were littered on the floor. She recognized the high, arched ceiling and the massive double oak doors at the end of the hall. This was the top floor of Bass Enterprises.

She maneuvered delicately over the spilled screws and nails on the floor. What was up with everything attacking her shoes today, she wondered idly. She ducked underneath a loose tarp tacked onto one wall and realized that the windows on the floor were taped off. Blair waited a moment and pressed her ear against the doors, but there was no noise from inside. She pulled her wrist inside the canvas jacket and turned the paint-flecked doorknob with her fabric-covered hand.

Chuck was standing at the desk with his back to her, and when he turned and gave her a slow smile her tension melted away. He was there, he hadn't run away again, and whatever he was doing here, he had invited her along.

"Waldorf," he drawled as he walked toward her. "How do you make such a terrible outfit look so delicious?" He tugged her belt and her body was flush with his.

"Well, Bass," she flirted, her skin tingling under the un-organic cotton, "You don't look so bad yourself." And he didn't, he really, really didn't. The construction suit was sculpted against his shoulders and streaks of dried paint spotted against his chest. She gently touched her fingers to a thick white dot and smiled up at him. His eyes were clear and warm, and his clean hair was back to his old Hollywood style. "But why did I need to wear the hat?"

"For my amusement," he said and kissed her. It was another ordinary kiss for them, and her toes curled like always as he nipped at her bottom lip. He rested his forehead on hers before taking her hand.

"This," he gestured at the room, "is my new office. My father's office, although I can't keep it as he did." His voice shook over the words and she squeezed his hand. "I was wondering if," he swallowed, "if you would want to help me."

She knew him well enough to know he was nervous. "What do you need?"

"I can't stand interior designers," he said, "And I can't think of anyone with better taste than you. But I was hoping you might be willing to do beyond art selection and furniture grouping."

She waited for him to continue, but he broke away from her and walked toward the one uncovered window in the room. The balcony outside was covered in fresh snow.

"I have a meeting with the Board of Directors next week," he said, softly, and he confirmed what she'd suspected since she entered the office—he was still scared. She moved toward him and removed the hat, laying it on the desk before she stood beside him. "And they think I'm just a seventeen-year-old kid. And they're right. I'm not ready for this."

"Bass," she said, and the name sounded like a prayer in this room. "You're a Bass. The Bass. Your father left his company to you because he knew you could do it." Chuck looked down but she gripped his hands and continued. "Look at the Victrola. You did that, Chuck, and you can do this. And I will stand by you."

His eyes were shining at her, bright and soft.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," she whispered.

"I've been in that room," he said dully, and he was instantly somewhere else. "I made some phone calls and got this project going, but most of the time I was just existing. And no one came."

"Chuck, no one knew you were there!" She turned his face to hers. "I thought about you every minute," and a tear slipped down her cheek. "Every minute, I was wondering where you were, if you were safe, if I would ever see you again. We all want to help," she said, and he bowed his head at the reference to their friends. "Let us."

She kissed him tentatively, and his mouth moved against hers with more force than before. He lifted her up onto the desk and she wrapped her legs around him as he kissed a trail of warm kisses down her throat. She brought his mouth back to hers and whispered his last name again, and Bass, Bass, Bass escaped from her between kisses and she realized that it was a prayer, that they were bringing life back to this office and building something new together. She wrapped her legs tighter around him and leaned back onto the desk and he traced his tongue down, unsnapped her horrible jacket and kissed the edge of her lace camisole.

There was a sharp knock at the door and she jerked upward, knocking her head on Chuck's.

"Shit!" He exclaimed and they both clutched at their skulls before grinning at each other. He was flushed and breathing heavily and she hastily snapped up the jacket as Sven entered the office.

"Mr. Bass." The name was a statement in Sven's monotone voice.

"Yes, Sven," Chuck drew out the name and Blair hid behind him, giggling.

"We've reserved the space you requested."

"Excellent."

Blair peeked out from around Chuck. Sven was standing in front of the door, with ramrod straight posture.

"That'll be all, Sven," Chuck said, his voice gravelly.

Sven saluted and left.

Blair could not contain herself. All her nervous energy was bubbling out of her and she could not stop laughing. Chuck turned back to her as she wiped tears from her eyes. "He…" she gasped, "he…" and Chuck was smiling, open-mouthed at her, "he saluted!"

"What can I say, Waldorf?" Chuck murmured against her hair. "I'm a very powerful man."

She wrapped her legs around him. "Oh, Mr. Bass," she teased. "I know."

"Mr. Bass?" His breath was warm on her face.

"Chuck," she whispered. "Charles."

"Yours," he finished, and he hadn't said those three words, but she felt the eight letters dancing around them.

"I must inquire," she said, "What is part two?"

"Shopping."

She grinned and wrinkled her nose. "But not in these clothes, right?"

He looked disgusted. "God no."

***************

"You did not close down Bergdorf's," she said, peering out the limousine window.

"Blair," he drawled, "Just shut up and come with me. The furnishing suppliers are meeting me here as a special favor."

"How special."

"I'm Chuck Bass," he said, but his eyes crumpled a little at the corners. She moved toward him and took his hand, lacing her fingers in his.

"Maybe a new suit," she murmured. "And a bow tie, of course, and I'll get a bow headband."

"Maybe just a bow headband for you," he growled, "You in a headband and nothing else…" He dipped his head to kiss her neck.

"Don't be ridiculous," she purred. "I can't wear just the headband."

He pulled her closer.

She nipped at his ear and taunted, "I'll need Louboutins, too."


	3. Chapter 3

"I'll need your resource books to make a final decision," Blair said crisply. "I suppose it's clear that this project should be handled with the utmost care."

"Of course, Ms. Waldorf."

"I'll--we'll be in touch," she replied, and stood, shaking hands with the assistant. "And please have the books delivered to the Palace under my name."

The furnishings representatives nodded and exited.

"Miss Waldorf," Chuck murmured. "I love it when you're bossy."

"It's not bossy," she protested, "Professional. And don't you dare say that I can act like a 'professional' anytime."

He smirked. He looked like himself again in a pale gray pinstriped suit with a burgundy shirt and blue tie. The fact that the tie perfectly matched her sheath dress hadn't escaped her notice. She'd teased him when he'd tied it on, and his hands had skimmed her silk-covered hips.

"You look so handsome," she'd said, and he'd given her a smirk-smile, but when she touched his face, he dipped his head before meeting her eyes. He was trying for her, she'd realized, but all that hurt was still there, just beneath the surface.

She shook her head.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Headband? Check." He admired her before continuing. "Louboutins?" She held out her leg and wiggled her four-inch heels. "Check."

"Where to now, Bass?"

He paused and took her hand. "The Palace?" he asked, and his voice wavered again. Concern flashed across her face and she nodded quickly, trying her best to assuage him.

In the limo, she curled against him and he pulled her into his lap. Blair slid her hand under his jacket and she could feel his heart hammering beneath the cotton shirt. He was warm to the touch and his legs jittered beneath her thighs. She looked up at him, questioningly, and he looked away as he breathed shallowly.

"Chuck," she said, and he turned to look at her. That fear from the morning was back in his soft caramel eyes, and he wasn't a CEO anymore, he was scared to go home. She touched the nape of his neck and stroked his hair hesitantly. "I'm going to stay with you."

"And Eleanor approves?"

"She and Cyrus went on a late honeymoon," she replied, and she smoothed his hair again. "I'll have Dorota bring over a suitcase."

"I had some clothes delivered for you," he said, and then he backtracked. "I arranged it with Bergdorf's, I didn't mean to presume, but I hoped…"

"Thank you," she interrupted, and she kissed his cheek.

His arms tightened around her and she turned her face into his chest.

***************

A single light was on in the suite, and dinner was waiting for them in the front room. Blair could feel Chuck's eyes on her, seeking her approval.

A line of votive candles was neatly arranged on the coffee table, and a large bouquet of hydrangeas sat on every table. The heavy drapes were pinned back and loose layers of silk chiffon obscured the windows. The lights from the city glinted below like fallen stars.

"Blair," Chuck said he name softly, and when she turned to him, her heart broke all over again.

He was slouched over the bar and was pulling at his tie. She was at his side in an instant, and he leaned against her as she helped him to the couch. Her slender fingers make quick work of the tie's Windsor knot, and she unbuttoned his shirt and slid off the shirt and jacket. The sight of his white t-shirt took her back to the first time she'd seen him that morning, and her stomach twisted.

"Okay," she said, "okay, okay." His half-open eyes watched her as she removed his shoes and poured him a glass of water from the room service tray. He sipped it slowly and reached into his pocket, removing a small bottle of pills. She gasped and grabbed the bottle from him, standing.

"Blair—" he protested, but she read the label and her heart was racing.

"Diazepam!" she cried. "You're taking Diazepam!"

"Only during the day," he weakly. He attempted a smirk. "At nights they interfere with the scotch…"

"Chuck, I know about all the pams," she said furiously. "And this is the highest dosage, Chuck!"

He was quiet. She looked down at the bottle and sat down again, snaking her arms around his neck. She touched his face and pulled her hand back when she felt wetness on his cheek. Tears, she realized, and she felt the heaviness settle over the room again.

"I didn't want to drink with you here." He spoke quietly and kept his head down.

Blair hesitated before handing the bottle back to him. He met her eyes.

"Take one if you need it."

He caught her hand in his.

"It's not your failing, Blair," he spoke firmly, "It's just temporary."

She smiled tightly as he swallowed a pill.

"Dinner?" he asked, uncovering the silver trays to reveal selections of lobster, steak, colorful vegetables, and goblets of mixed berries with cream. "I need to eat with the medication," he explained.

She managed a better smile and clapped her hands together before plating the food. She was acutely aware that she was putting on a performance now. She tried desperately to relax, but her nervousness was churning in her stomach and the food made her feel nauseated. Chuck dipped the lobster in butter and fed her when she obediently opened her mouth. Without thinking, she began counting the number of chews before she swallowed.

Eighteen bites of lobster in butter.

Twelve bites of filet mignon.

Four spears of asparagus.

An entire goblet of berries with whipped cream.

Two chocolate truffles.

She ate methodically and quickly as the pair sat in silence. He was watching her and it made her feel more urgent, more ready to be done, to be finished, to move on to something else.

She rose after the meal and he looked at her as she stood. The silk dress felt too tight to her and she imagined the fine fabric puling against her skin until in ripped apart, Chuck's face as her body was revealed to be bloated and unrefined, and she felt that familiar feeling wash over her.

"Please excuse me."

Her voice was high-pitched and thin, and she was vaguely aware that Chuck was standing, following her, as she strode quickly to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her before she vomited into the toilet bowl, her body screaming at the feeling of release.

"Blair!"

She shut her eyes and dragged herself to a stand. She slid a toothbrush out of the hotel holder and dabbed toothpaste across the bristles, wincing at the strong taste of mint.

"Blair, please."

His voice was impossibly soft.

This was not how this was supposed to be. She was strong and controlled and caring and perfect, she repeated. She was the savior.

She shook her hair back and opened the door, smiling brightly.

His brow was furrowed. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," she spoke cheerily. "Just felt a little sick for a moment, but I'm fine. Just too much too fast!" She attempted to move past him, but he caught her arm and pulled her in.

"Talk to me," he growled.

She couldn't lie when he looked at her like that, not when those brown eyes searched her, not when he traced circles on her palm, so she opted for avoidance.

"It was just my secret anti-anxiety medication making me sick," she lashed out, and it worked. His face crumpled, but to her surprise, he recovered quickly and pulled her tighter.

"Tell me," his voice was forceful. "You can tell me."

She swallowed and tasted he sharp tang of mint in her mouth.

"Two years ago," she whispered, "I was diagnosed with bulimia. I had a full course of treatment and it was mostly successful, but I've relapsed a few times." Her voice was faraway and mechanical.

"Waldorf."

He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Carefully, he unzipped the dress and removed her shoes before covering her chemise-clad body in the duvet. He lay down next to her and took off her headband, touching her loose curls carefully. He spoke again.

"Waldorf," he continued, and she somehow felt more beautiful than ever as his eyes regarded her carefully before he kissed her hands softly. "Thank you for telling me."

She felt the weight fall off her, and she was lighter than ever before as his fingers brushed against her chin. "I'm sorry about how I reacted to the Diazepam," she replied.

"I don't want to take it," he said. "He wouldn't want me to."

"It's just temporary," she echoed him from earlier. "You just need some help, Chuck, lots of people do. I needed help," she reminded. "And we can help each other."

He smiled at her, a small Chuck smile, and she settled into his arms before sleep washed over them both.

***************

She awoke to his lips on her neck and she blushed at the memory of her limo fantasy. The real thing, she decided, was much better than she'd imagined.

"Blair."

Her eyes opened fully and she met his gaze. His sharp cheekbones stood out in the morning light and his hair was tousled from sleep. His full lips were slightly parted and she pulled him to her.

He breathed out as she pressed her body against his and his hands palmed her thighs as her legs wrapped around him and she felt him hard against her. She reached down to unbutton his pants and he paused, pulling back.

"Wait," he said, and she fell back against the pillow, embarrassed.

He lowered himself onto her.

"Before we do this," he said, "I wanted to tell you—"

Her heart picked up that familiar allegro rhythm and tingles danced across her skin.

"Waldorf." One corner of his mouth arched up in a half-smile. "I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

Her eyes felt bright and her skin was humming against every inch of him, and somehow it felt new and familiar all at once. One lock of his hair was hanging loosely across his forehead and she brushed it back.

"Say it again," Blair said.

He swallowed, and she nodded at him in encouragement, because she realized in that moment that he was maybe more nervous than she'd ever been about those three words.

"I love you," he repeated.

"I love you," she echoed, and he pulled her to him hungrily, covering her mouth with his and this, she knew, this was it, and they'd waited to say it because love meant something to them. Nate had repeated those eight letters to her dutifully for years, but he'd never meant it, not like this, not through anything and with everything.

Chuck started to unbutton her nightgown, and fingers fumbled over the little buttons, so he wrapped her arms around her and leaned backward, drawing her upright so he could pull the chemise over her head. She instinctively covered her breasts, knowing he could see everything in the morning light. He regarded her for a moment and pulled off his t-shirt before touching her forearms gently. She relaxed and he slid his hands under hers, touching her bare skin and skimming her soft skin.

They were in slow motion like always, she thought hazily, and her mind took snapshots as they fell back against the pillows.

He arched as she unbuckled his belt.

She wrapped her legs around him.

He waited above her until she nodded.

He moved inside her slowly until she leaned her head back and moaned like no one on the Upper East Side thought Blair Waldorf would moan, and she lifted her hips off the bed to meet him more fully and they went right back into that perfect rhythm. They'd been dance partners for years, she thought, and wasn't this a kind of waltz? Maybe a tango, she amended in her mind, and then he captured her mouth in his and all other thoughts were forgotten.

***************

She sat at the desk in the main room of the suite, the furnishing books all around her, and typed furiously on her laptop. She'd chosen the colors for the office and picked a new seating arrangement, and was now in the process of send out inquiries to the top antique book dealers in New York about first edition books. She'd already procured _The Great Gatsby_ and hoped to find finer editions of Shakespeare's plays, knowing that Chuck had a certain fondness for _Othello_.

"Good morning," a voice drawled from the bedroom and Chuck walked toward her, clad only in a white bathrobe.

"Very good morning," she purred, and stepped toward him, running her hands across his chest before kissing him lightly.

"You could have woken me," he replied, "I would have been happy to assist you in the shower."

"I'm aware," she teased, "But I got a message from the desk that the supplier books were here, and then Dorota brought over my bags, so I thought I'd let you sleep."

"Too kind, Waldorf," he rasped, and he tugged at her belted dress to draw her into an embrace.

"Too late, Bass," she swatted at him, breaking away and sitting back down at the desk. "Now, I've got the colors picked out, and the furnishings mostly chosen, although I wasn't sure about the office desk." She bit her lip. "I thought you might want to keep your father's---"

"Yes." He stepped over to the table and shook a caplet out of the prescription bottle, swallowing it dry. "That stays."

"I have the purchase order for my selections," she said, and handed Chuck a sheath of papers. "The room mock-up will be here soon, and then we can make changes before you sign off."

"Surprise me," he said, and reached for a pen, scrawling his name on the signature line. "I trust you."

She smiled up at him and then tapped his rear playfully. "Good. Now go get dressed. We're going to the penthouse for brunch."

His face tightened. "Blair, no."

"Yes," she said firmly, but she stood up and took his hands in hers. "You just said you trust me, Bass. Show me you do."

He pressed his lips together and then opened them as if to speak, but then he turned and headed for the closet.

***************

Lily looked thinner than usual, Blair noted, but she didn't look better, and the realization struck a chord within in, that notion that slimmer wasn't necessarily an improvement.

"Lily," she said smoothly, and kissed her check in greeting.

Lily smiled wanly at her before turning to Chuck. "Charles," she said hesitantly, and Blair watched as Lily hugged him carefully. Chuck's eyes met hers over Lily's shoulder and then his own shoulders relaxed and he held his stepmother tenderly.

Eric and Serena entered the living room and Blair walked over to Serena. The blonde raised her eyebrows at her and gave her hips the slightest wiggle, and when Blair blushed, she knew her oldest friend understood what was happening with her and Chuck.

Chuck and Lily parted. Blair watched the scene unfold before her, and it wasn't a reunion out of a movie, but it was somehow perfect nonetheless. Chuck approached Eric cautiously, and each boy's movements mimicked the other's, and Chuck looked like the Chuck she'd known at the start of junior year, baby-faced and anxious for approval. This was how they were alike, she knew, they didn't change for other people, but they adapted to each situation. Sometimes they were playing a part, pretending and hiding, but other times, like that night at Victrola, like this very moment, their appearances telegraphed what was happening inside.

Chuck said something to Eric and Eric interrupted, shaking his head and responding with careful words that she could lip-read across the room—_you're my brother—_and Chuck rocked back on his heels before extending his hand. Eric slung an arm over shoulder shoulders in a classic man-hug, and Blair smiled at Serena.

Sometimes there were no words.

***************

After brunch, Chuck led Blair upstairs to Bart's old office. The room was filled with boxes, and she noted that they'd need to be transported over to the Bass Industries headquarters. Chuck strode over to the safe and nimbly unlocked the door.

"Cash, jewels, antiques," she catalogued, "How very mystery novel of Bart."

"I agree," he replied, "But my father went beyond what was necessary." He turned toward her and placed a leather portfolio in her hands.

"Chuck's associates?" she read, a question in her voice before she answered herself. "I'm in this file."

"I would assume so," he said.

"You didn't read it?"

He shook his head. "I read my own file. It was enough." He swallowed. "These will all be destroyed, but I thought—shit, I don't know, I thought—" He stopped when she put her hand in the air and opened the leather portfolio. She tossed the Nate folder, the Various folder, the Georgina folder into the locked "destroy" box in the corner of the room and sat down on the floor with her folder. She motioned for him to join her and she leaned against him.

It was mostly what she expected. Details of her family history, her parent's divorce, her father's relationship with Roman, business reports on her mother's company, her bulimia treatment, but she was surprised to see printouts from Gossip Girl in the folder. The last item was a photograph of her and Chuck at Lily and Bart's wedding. She turned it over and was shocked to see handwritten notes on the bag.

"May 20," Chuck read, deciphering the scrawl, "Miss Waldorf and Chuck seemed to have a prior relationship to today. Well above what I'd expected for Chuck, but a welcome surprise. Despite her some personal issues, Miss Waldorf is quite beautiful, intelligent, established in proper society, and surprisingly polished for one her age. Encouragement will be given before their trip to Tuscany."

Chuck stopped halfway through the writing and Blair took his hand in hers. "It's okay," she said. "Finish reading."

"December 15," he said, and she recognized the date as a few days before Bart's death. "Chuck appears to be quite taken with Miss Waldorf. Overheard a conversation between Serena and Miss Waldorf that suggests deep mutual feelings, and Chuck's decision to wait for a future relationship demonstrates character. Very proud," his voice broke, but he continued, "and feel that the two are inevitable." He set down the file.

"Inevitable," she repeated.

"He was right," Chuck said, and he kissed her sweetly with his hands on both sides of her face. "He said he was proud. He was proud of me."

"He loved you," she whispered, and Chuck's eyes watered up. "Let's keep this, okay?"

He nodded, and she stood, pulling his hands to help him stand. She slid the rest of the file into the destroy bin, and held the photograph carefully between her fingers.

"For my desk?" he asked, and she kissed him quickly.

"One less thing for me to decide on," she teased.

"So you'll have some free time, then?" His eyes were still damp with unshed tears, but she could see that playful glimmer underneath and responded accordingly.

"Bass, I have all the time in the world for you," she said, and she twisted her hair up and started down the stairs, knowing the nape of her neck was exposed. "Coming?" she tarted.

He smirked and followed her lead.


	5. Chapter 5

Blair frowned at the tablescape. Something was not right, she thought, and she stood with her hands on her hips, considering the green glass lamp. She pushed it slightly to the right and shifted the antique cigar box forward.

"Much better," she said with satisfaction, and turned at the sound of the office door opening. "Wait!" she shrieked, running to the door. "Close your eyes!"

"I'm powerless against your orders, Waldorf," said the muffled voice from the other side of the door. "Can I come in now?"

"No!" She opened the door a bit and slid behind him, covering his eyes with her hands. "Okay, walk forward."

He used the opportunity to palm her thighs and pulled her onto his back, striding into the room with her body pressed against his.

"Stop!"

He paused in the center of the room and she slid back to the ground, keeping her hands over his eyes.

"Ready, Bass?"

"For you in that little negligee from La Perla? Always."

"Chuck," she groaned, and removed her hands.

The office renovation had turned out even better than she'd expected, she noted with satisfaction. She'd preserved some of the mahogany wall paneling and chosen a soft gray for the ceiling. One wall was lined with a handcrafted custom bookcase, and the leather-bound volumes were interspersed with framed photographs. His father's desk was positioned between two large windows, and she'd chosen gold raw silk drapes that pooled dramatically on the Oriental rugs below.

She watched his face as he took it in. He walked over to the desk and laid his palms flat on the surface. The photograph of them from the wedding was framed in weighty silver, and she'd also added photographs of Nate, Serena, Lily, Eric, Bart, and his mother. He picked up the picture of Evelyn Bass and met Blair's waiting eyes.

"Perfect," he whispered, setting the photograph down as Blair flung herself into his arms.

"I was a little nervous," she admitted.

"I wasn't." He smirked. "I already got you a thank-you gift."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he covered her mouth with his hand.

"Close your eyes," he teased, and she obliged. She felt his fingers, feather-light against her wrist and then a cold metal on her skin. "Open," he whispered.

Her wrist was encircled in diamonds and pearls. Each pearl had a fine pave of diamonds around it, and the pearls were linked together with small platinum rings. "Beautiful," she breathed.

"You are," he replied, and held her hand. He turned the bracelet on her wrist until she noticed the clasp, a filigreed platinum circle with a "B" engraved on it. "This was my mother's," he said quietly. "My father gave it to her the day Bass Industries bought this building."

"You're giving it to me?" she said quickly. "Are you sure?"

The words hung between them, that phrase that started this. She touched his jaw line and he kissed her deeply, slowly, like she had done so many months ago.

"Waldorf," he whispered. "I'm in love with you."

"I love you, too," she replied, and he drew her close. "You know," she taunted, "I have a gift for you, too."

"Can I open it now?" He undid the bow on the front of her blouse and gave her a wicked grin.

"Bass!"

He pulled her down on the rug and she decided that she'd picked the right shade for the ceiling after all.

***************

She'd never seen him pace before, she realized.

He still had that same, elegant stride, all long lines and grace, but his pace was quicker than his usual stroll as he moved back and forth across the suite. They'd been having dinner at Lily's every night, but Chuck had opted to use 1812 as his personal office and bedroom. She realized with a bang that Eleanor and Cyrus would be back from their honeymoon the day after next, but she reasoned that at least she'd be there for the night of the Board meeting.

"What about our international expansion?" Chuck interrupted her thoughts. "Did Stanley send over those numbers on—"

"On London?"

He nodded.

"I already updated the presentation booklets and your outline," she said, handing him a crisp sheet of cream linen paper. "And remember to mention the partnership with Herrod's for the lobby shop," she added.

He kissed her hard on the mouth. "What in the world, Waldorf, would I do without you?"

She tilted her head. "Lucky for you, you won't ever find out."

He ran his fingers along her chin and started pacing again.

"Chuck," she started, and he paused to turn to her. "Did you take a pill today?"

He put his hands in his pockets. "Last one was two days ago," he said, and she couldn't help the smile from creeping over her face. "But Blair—I didn't tell you because I still have them. I don't want to disappoint you if I need another."

She took a breath and tried relaxing her grim into composure. "Right," she said briskly, "I understand."

"Blair," he whispered, dropping his head, "It still hurts." He met her gaze. "I love you. Nothing makes me feel better than being with you. But it's still there, underneath, and it might always be there. I don't want to drag you down."

"Not possible, Bass," she murmured. "I'll lift you right back up."

***************

She woke at dawn and lay in their bed, trying to be still. Chuck's body was curved around hers, and she touched his full lips with the tips of her fingers. His beauty was rougher than Nate's or Marcus's—Chuck was all angles and contradictions, carved out of stone but still soft around the eyes, with that wonderfully expressive mouth.

Someday, she thought, and the notion swept over her in a warm breeze, they would be married. They were inevitable, destined for each other. It was no coincidence, she thought, that she'd gone to Chuck after ending her charade with Nate. Chuck had embraced every bit of her, her weaknesses and vulnerabilities, her methods to protect herself, her desire to be free and her need for control. He understood her because they shared the same core.

It was funny to think about, she wondered, as she slid out of bed, fluffing her hair and looking back at Chuck. She'd spent almost seventeen years convinced that Nate was her counterpoint, they were a matched set, but it took her almost as long to realize that she, the dark-haired girl with the bow in her hair, belonged with the dark-haired boy with the bow around his neck.

She reclined on the Eames chair in the living room and watched the sun rise over the city. This was a new start, today, she thought. The Board meeting was today, and she knew he was ready, that they were ready.

"Where'd you go?"

Chuck sat down next to her and pulled a cashmere throw around them. She leaned into his warmth and he held her gently. His hands moved down her sides slowly and she kissed his neck before burrowing her face into his chest. She listened to him breathe, a slow and steady stream of air that too many took for granted, and then looked up at him. She smoothed his rumpled air and his eyes fluttered open.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you," he said.

The sun lit the trees and the evening shadows faded away.


	6. Chapter 6

Blair leaned back in Chuck's desk chair and spun idly, dragging her Ferragamo heels on the handmade rug. She'd left the suite early that morning and smiled slightly as she remembered the note she'd written for Chuck. She spun around one more time and leaned on his desk, examining the framed photographs.

Chuck's mother was beautiful—striking, she thought—in a way that so few women are. She reminded Blair of Sofia Loren and Maria Callas, and the familial resemblance between mother and son was strong. They shared the same strong cheekbones and straight noses, but there was still a sort of softness radiating through the photograph.

"Sven again?"

She pushed the chair away from the desk and rushed over to greet him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Sven at 431 on the suite phone," she teased, and he smirked at her.

"And why this outfit, Waldorf?" he said, gesturing to the St. Jude's uniform he was wearing. "I do love to bush the boundaries, but I'm afraid the Board might not understand your sartorial choice."

"Oh, Bass," she flirted, "The uniform is just for my own amusement. And my own enjoyment," she said, pulling down on his tie and dragging her mouth across his. He responded instantly, and the synapses in skin were firing away before she steadied herself and leaned back. "Don't worry. I have a gift for you."

She opened the door to a hidden closet and pulled out a large garment bag. Chuck raised his eyebrows slightly and unzipped the bag.

The custom suit had been handmade by New York's most exclusive tailor. The navy fabric was the very finest wool, with a beautiful drape and a thin gray pinstripe pattern. The bag also contained a custom pale blue shirt, which Chuck slipped off the hanger while Blair held onto the jacket. He undressed quickly and slipped on the shirt and pants while she set the jacket back in the closet to help him button.

She loved dressing (and undressing) with Chuck. He would let her fasten all the buttons on his shirt, and now was no exception. She stood close to him, her body almost against his, and his hand rested lightly on her waist as she smoothed down the fabric before starting on the coordinating bow tie.

"The bow tie is a must," she whispered, and it was. "You know," she remarked, "Not many men can pull off a bow tie."

"You forget yourself, Waldorf," he rasped, running his lips around her ear, "That I'm not most men."

"No," she said, and then she repeated herself, more softly this time. "No, Chuck Bass, you most certainly are note."

She felt nervous in that moment and her hands shook as she reached into the closet again and removed the suit jacket. She held it open in front of her and he slid his arms into it. He froze, his back to her, and then he turned slowly while folding up the cuff of the left sleeve to reveal her heart-shaped pin.

"Blair," he said, and his eyes glazed over.

"It's yours," she said. "I'm yours."

He looked at her and then back at the pin. She'd had it engraved with C+B on one side of the heart and B+C on the other, and he ran his thumb over the lettering.

"You didn't engrave it for Nate," he said huskily.

She shook her head and he stepped closer to her. Blair put her hands on his chest and adjusted his bow tie. "I don't mean to scare you," she said.

"You don't." He kissed her sweetly. "It's perfect. I must admit," he drawled, "I was wishing that you could be in the meeting with me."

She felt a smile spread across her face as his breathe tickled her neck.

"Because Waldorf—" he said, and he slid his hands under her skirt and up her thighs. "Just think of what fun we could have on that conference table."

***************

"Miss Walforf."

She jolted upright on the sofa in Chuck's office and smoothed her dress. Sven stood at the door.

"Mr. Bass and the Board have requested your presence." His monotone voice was jarring in the silence.

"Just one moment," she said, and she cleared her throat. She paused in front of the mirror and rearranged her brunette curls and applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

She followed Sven down the hall to the conference room. He opened the double doors for her and she stepped inside, and Sven closed the doors smoothly behind her.

Twelve men, all versions of Bart Bass, sat around the polished mahogany conference table and she suppressed a smile at the memory of Chuck's comment from earlier. Chuck stood at the front of the room and she walked over to him in small, deliberate steps, noting with satisfaction the approving smiles from the Board. She looked perfect, of that she was sure, in her navy Dior jacket and skirt.

"Gentlemen," she addressed the room, and she took Chuck's hand. "Charles," she said with a slight smile.

"Please join me in welcoming Miss Blair Waldorf," Chuck said in a dulcet tone. "She is the architect behind the boutique hotel project I've described, and a woman with the finest taste."

"Thank you," she said, reading the room carefully. "May I provide clarification on the project?"

"Miss Waldorf," said a handsome member of the Board, "I'm Thaddeus Lamar, and let me speak for all of us when we say that we are impressed with the analysis of the boutique hotel market that Mr. Bass provided. He tells us that your research helped prompt the project. Can you please share the details of your thought process?"

"Certainly, Mr. Lamar," she said. "Charles was the inspiration for the idea. I'm sure you all know about the success of his first project with Bass Industries, the burlesque club Victrola. The unprecedented success of this club made it clear that people don't just want a night out, they want an experience. Anyone can deliver a signature cocktail or the latest hors d'oeuvre, but Charles knows how to create a mood, a feeling of being transported to another world. We've taken that seed and used it to produce the boutique hotel project—hotels that are a vacation in and of themselves, places to escape and be found."

The room was quiet for a moment and she kept her gaze on the Board members.

Mr. Lamar smiled broadly and stood to slap Chuck on the back. "She's a gem, Charles," he said, and reached over to shake Blair's hand. "We'll move forward on your recommendation, Miss Waldorf."

She caught Chuck's gaze and he raised his hand to her. The heart pin glinted in the sun.

***************

_Five years later…_

"I think it's time to redecorate," Blair said as she idly played with the trim on the office sofa. "Maybe we could bring in some burgundies or deep crimson."

"While you do look excellent in reds, Waldorf," Chuck replied, "I prefer you in nude."

She swatted at his arm and leaned back against him. "I am so glad that meeting is over," she said.

"You were wonderful, as always," he murmured. "They love it when you come in."

She smiled. After Yale, she'd joined the most prestigious consulting firm in New York and Bass Industries was one of her prominent clients. Chuck had graduated from Columbia that spring, and they'd spent the last year happy to be in the city together. The time apart had been torturous.

"Blair," he said softly and she turned to him.

He swallowed. "Are you happy with me?"

She furrowed her brow. "Are you kidding?"

He bit his lip and she pressed her lips together.

"Chuck, nothing makes me happier. I love you," she said, and she pressed herself against him. She heard a crumbling noise and leaned back. "What is that?"

He looked down and removed a sheath of folded papers from his inside jacket pocket and handed them to her.

She scanned them quickly, flipping through the documents. "Chuck," she said in disbelief. "This is the deed to the 15th and 16th floors at 778 Park Avenue. That's—"

"The Astor apartment," he finished. "Blair, I bought it for us."

She felt tears come to her eyes and he moved in front of her, balancing on one knee. The world disappeared around him and it was him and her, Blair and Chuck, as he took her hand.

"I spoke with Harold, Eleanor, and Cyrus this morning," he said, "And now I need to ask you." He squeezed his hand and kissed her fingertips.

"My father wanted to give me everything in the world," he said, "But nothing really had any meaning until that night with you at the Victrola." She smiled and a tear fell from her eye, and he gently wiped it away.

"I think for the first time, we both really saw each other, the way no one else had before," Chuck continued. "You gave me something that my father couldn't," he paused and swallowed. "I know now, that he loved me, in his own way."

She touched his face with her free hand and gave him a small nod.

"But the way I love you, Blair Waldorf, it's something else all together." She heard that passionate rumble in his voice and her heart picked up speed. "You are in my thoughts always. I wear this pin every day and you are always beside me. Every plan I make, I see you in my future. I see us, together, forever." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box and she was barely breathing now, lost in his dark eyes.

"I am yours, Blair," he whispered. He opened the ring box and she gasped at the sight of the diamond. "Make me the luckiest bastard in the world and be my wife." He took the ring out of the box. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." She said in one breath and he smiled broadly, sliding the ring on her finger. "Yes, yes, yes."

He kissed her then, and she felt the tears on his face blend with hers and she thought that this was better than any fairytale she'd ever read.

***************

That night, she and Chuck went to visit 778 Park Avenue. They walked through the empty apartment, admiring the classic architecture and she could see them here together, with friends and family and children of their own.

Maybe, she thought, as Chuck wrapped his arms around her waist in the dark room, she'd been missing the point of all those fairy tales after all.

Cinderella doesn't wind up happily ever after during the ball. She loses a shoe and returns home broken-hearted, and the prince manages to see her true self in her ragged clothes.

Snow White flees the castle and to be joyful and free for the first time, content to live with dwarves in the forest, and the prince falls in love with that happy girl.

Holly Golightly escapes a loveless and proper marriage to find love and passion.

Maybe it takes a fall, she thought as she turned to face Chuck, and he kissed her ring finger. She wove her hands in his hair and he leaned down to kiss her. And then after the fall, you find the place you belong.

_fin_

***************

_Author's note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I wanted to give B&C a happy ending before tonight's episode. _


End file.
